Outai? Papa, Outai?
by Black Blood of the Red Rose
Summary: After a moment of silence, Canada craned his head up and looked at England with wide, yearning eyes. "Where's Papa?"


**So... this some random one-shot my insomniac brain spewed out.**

**Inspired by the song Papaoutai by Stromae.  
**

**I hope you guys enjoy it and share your thoughts in a review.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia-Axis Powers**

**~o~o~o~O~o~o~o~**

A swift, gentle breeze floated through the freezing winter night, rustling the lush snow cloaked branches of evergreens and sending sparkling white snowflakes spiraling off the ground and dancing through the air.

Perched on the edge of a thick forest, was a quaint single story house. The soft glow of candle light drifting from a window was the only sign of life in the otherwise barren land, offering warmth and comfort.

A single candle sat in the center of the living room, barely managing to illuminate the small room with it's quivering flame. Resting not a foot away from the candle, a small boy was curled into himself, his knees tucked close to his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his legs. From behind a curtain of wavy golden blonde hair that brushed the collar of his plain nightgown (save one strand of loose, curly hair that popped out awkwardly and dangled in front of his face), his blue-violet eyes never wavered from their longing stare at the shimmering Christmas tree.

"Canada? What are you doing?" A small voice squeaked. From around the corner of the living room's entryway, another child peeked into the room curiously. He could have been an exact copy of Canada if it weren't for a few subtle differences: his eyes were a shade lighter, his hair was straighter and a few inches shorter, his cowlick stuck up straight and pointed toward the sky, he was an inch taller.

"Nothing, America," Canada replied, his voice as soft and delicate as the snowflakes swirling outside. "Go back to bed."

At his older brother's lack of acknowledgment, America gingerly took a few steps closer to Canada, slightly cocking his head to the side in confusion.

While the other boy was trying to find Canada, Canada was trying to find his father.

Reflected from the gleaming shards of glass that hung among the colorful drawings on the evergreen, Canada saw his father. Well, almost...

Despite not being related by blood like he was to America, he and his father shared similar traits. Both of them had the same exotic eyes, delicate features, and silky hair, though his father didn't have a pesky cowlick. So, when he saw his reflection in the large chips of glass, Canada immediately thought of his father. Unfortunately, with the memory of him, there was always a sharp jab in Canada's chest.

"Boys?" A tired voice croaked as the light shuffle of feet grew louder. From the same entryway that America had previously peeked through, a drowsy adult appeared, using the heel of his hands to rub the sleep away from his eyes.

"England!" America chirped, breaking his curious stare and clinging onto the man's leg. His eyes growing wide in distress, he hysterically pointed at his twin. "He's being strange and sad."

With a heavy groan, England hoisted America up with one arm and propped him against his hip. With a small smile, the Englishman answered: "Oh well, I'm sure it's nothing. Right, Canada?"

Canada remained motionless as a statue.

"See!" America whined, lightly tugging at England's short blonde hair.

"Ow, that's enough, Lad." The eldest nation scolded as he swatted America's chubby toddler hands. Returning his attention to the other North American brother, his lips twitched downward in a small frown and his unusually thick eyebrows scrunched together.

"What are you doing down here at this time of night?" he asked as he approached Canada so that he he stood right beside him, concern lacing his voice.

After a moment of silence, Canada craned his head up and looked at England with wide, yearning eyes. "Where's Papa?"

With a pitiful sigh, England pulled Canada up from the hardwood floor and balanced him on his free hip.

"Listen..." he answered solemnly, staring the small nation in the eye as if it would help him understand what he was saying. "We've been over this, France can't see you much anymore; he gave you to me to look over."

Canada bashfully buried his face into his caretaker's chest, unconsciously tightening his grip on England's forest green pajamas to keep them from quivering.

America instinctively reached around England and wrapped his hand around Canada's.

"W-Why?" Canada stuttered, almost inaudible as his already quiet voice was muffled.

"For a lot of reasons, Love. Because he loved you, because of himself, because of work."

The Brit grimaced as he felt his pajamas and chest grow wet. Rubbing his thumb in gentle circles on Canada's back, he tenderly placed a small kiss on top Canada's head.

"Hush... Hush..." he cooed, pulling the twins closer to him as he made his way out of the living room and down the hall. "Let's get some sleep, tomorrow's Christmas and we want to wake up early to open Santa's presents, don't we?"

**~o~o~o~O~o~o~o~**

England finished securely tucking a soft blanket around the sleeping brothers. A limp grip on each other's hands somehow managed to keep the two snuggled close to each other, their knees and tops of their foreheads touching.

"France, you bloody bastard," England muttered bitterly under his breath as he left the bedroom.

A faint whimper escaped Canada.


End file.
